


My Heart is a Colored Pencil But My Brain is an Eraser

by mywarisalreadywon



Category: Curse Workers Series - Holly Black
Genre: Also I'm trying to stick as close to canon as possible, Cassel is pretty much a shapeshifter, F/M, Gen, and he drinks way too much coffee, as do i, because he canonically can shift himself, so he loves her, so i take liberties with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:59:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywarisalreadywon/pseuds/mywarisalreadywon
Summary: His mouth tastes like coffee. Not good coffee, the kind you find at a gas station for a dollar any size. And it tastes old, like either he had it a while ago, or he settled for old coffee. Neither option is out of the question. There’s no question of what he’s trying to say, what he’s telling her with no words.Goodbye.





	My Heart is a Colored Pencil But My Brain is an Eraser

**Author's Note:**

> I did say I was going to fill this whole section with fics, didn't I? I think I'm getting off to a good start Because I have one more work in progress.

His mouth tastes like coffee. Not good coffee, the kind you find at a gas station for a dollar any size. And it tastes old, like either he had it a while ago, or he settled for old coffee. Neither option is out of the question. There’s no question of what he’s trying to say, what he’s telling her with no words.

Goodbye.

It’s almost desperate, how he kisses her. He’s not crying, but she can feel his heart pounding. For a split second, she’s pulled back into her memories. They had been hiding, because they were too young and there were people at the house that her father had told her to stay away from. But she hadn’t wanted to leave her room and wherever she went, Cassel went with her. He was happy to follow her lead, her favorite partner in crime before they understood what status was and how she had it but he didn’t. The people had come into the room, but they’d heard them coming and hid in the closet. They had guns and bare hands and he’d been terrified. He hadn’t cried then, but his heart had beat so quickly under her hand, and she saw the tears in his eyes.

This isn’t fear, but it is pain, and for all she knows he doesn’t object to being hurt, she wants to spare him this pain. His lips are soft, firm but yielding to her own. She thinks that if there was no status, nothing putting either of them in a position above the other, they might have been okay. She should have known this was coming. He’s never been the type to work for her family. He’s a small time con, enjoying the game, the chase, the lies, but not the brutality. She knows the weight of what he’s done already weighs on him, and he doesn’t even remember most of it.

But her father’s funeral is tomorrow and she takes over as head of the family today. So he’s kissing her goodbye, and she can almost taste the tears he’s swallowing down.

Her last thought before he pulls away and walks out the door without another word is that she could get used to the taste of old, cheap coffee.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The next time she sees him, she knows it him even though no one else does. There’s a black cat in the garden. It has striking amber eyes that are just a shade too light, and it’s got a white spot over its heart. She wonders if he did that on purpose or if it just happened. It’s fitting, because for all his lies and darkness, his heart is still mostly good. She pets him, listens to him purr, and smiles at the way it growls when anyone else gets too close. He runs off when too many people come to see her, but she catches a few more glimpses of black fur and glowing eyes before she goes to bed that night.

She hopes the blowback isn’t too bad for him.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Sometimes she dons a disguise and does normal things that no one would expect her to do on her own. Like grocery shopping. She finds it relaxing, getting to pick her own produce and junk food snacks. She sees him and even though he doesn’t look like himself, it’s as if her heart recognizes the bond they share. Right now, he looks drastically different, his long dark hair pulled back into a loose braid. He’s wearing tight fitting clothes, showing a narrow waist, but he either couldn’t or wouldn’t disguise his broad shoulders. She supposes it might look a bit odd for a woman to only have one ear pierced, but the small stud is barely noticeable, so she thinks most people won’t see the oddity. It makes her smile though, and she remembers that night in the hotel room, where they both knew their places but didn’t want to accept them. The woman looks at her with his eyes, that beautiful dark brown, almost black, and she aches to go talk to him. He gives her a sly smile that looks perfectly innocent on the woman’s face, just like it looks on his, and turns to continue her shopping. She doesn’t see him again like that, but she finds the disguise amusing because she knows no one would ever expect him to transform himself into a woman.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

She’s on a beach, hiding. Sometimes the responsibility weighs on her and she feels the ache to just run away, to be done with this world. She wishes she could be a cat again, but not. She hated being stuck like that, but she thinks if she could just escape from her life that it might not be so bad now. In those moments, she is infinitely more jealous of Cassel. He’s free to do whatever he wants, to be whoever or whatever he wants. She watches as one of the people surfing, the blond with too pale skin and a booming laugh, walks out of the water. She glares at him, but he sits beside her.

“Rough day?” he asks, his voice too deep and rough. It’s not the voice she wants, but something keeps her form snapping at him to go away.

“Rough life,” she says, surprising herself, but she hides it. He laughs.

“I’ve been there,” he says. “Well, maybe not exactly, but pretty close.” His gloves are black, making the tone of his skin even more pale. It’s only when he gives her a crooked smile that she relaxes. She’d thought it was him, but now she’s sure. He doesn’t look anything like himself, which she supposes is the point.

“Wanna go for a swim?” she asks. He nods, standing up and holding out a hand.

“Come on, the water feels great,” he says. She stays all day with him, not talking about anything in particular, and as day fades to dusk, she lays with him on a towel beside a small fire and kisses him until they’re both breathing heavy and holding on tight to each other.

He still tastes like coffee, but now he also tastes like salty sea water.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The feds come for the family the day after working is made legal. They come for tax fraud, for assault, for any other number of things that they can get them for. She watches as her family is taken down, dismantled, fined, and arrested. There’s nothing they can do to her, because they can’t prove she knew about any of it.

She watches the empire burn, watches it happen to their rivals, to everyone they’re connected to.

The only thing she can think about is that she’s finally free, the only thing she can feel is relief.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

She finds him where the old house stood. It’s been torn down now, all its secrets and crimes turned to ashes and swept off to a landfill. He’s sitting on the only thing left, the concrete stoop. He looks like himself again, like the boy she remembers. Except he’s not a boy anymore. He’s grown, she can see that. His hair is longer, he hasn’t shaved in a few days, and he’s bigger now. For all the slight differences, he’s still Cassel. His eyes are the same warm brownish black she remembers, his skin is still a stark difference to the porcelain of her own, his hands are still covered in his soft black leather gloves, the ones that fit him like a second skin. He looks at her, lifting an eyebrow at the work jeans and the tee he must recognize as one of his own. She also has his boots on, and they still don’t fit her, but she likes them anyway. A corner of his mouth quirks up and he shakes his head a little.

“Were you the one that called for demolition?” she asks, knowing he is, knowing his mother would have just abandoned it and vanished like some of the other people tied in with the family.

“No,” he lies, and she smiles a little at that. She reaches out and puts her hand on top of his where they’re clasped between his knees. He shifts a little, intertwining their fingers. His hands are just as warm as she remembers. She thinks it’s ironic that she’s wearing white gloves and he’s wearing black when she’s the one with all kinds of blood on her hands now and he’s still the best person she knows. He pulls her hand up and presses a kiss to the palm of her hand through her silk glove. It catches on the stubble he hasn’t yet shaved, and then he goes back to keeping her hand safely protected within his own.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” she asks.

“You know I am,” he says, laughter evident in his voice. “Are you?”

“I’m free forever,” she says, grinning in a way that reminds them both of their past, of the wrongs he’s committed and corrected.

“Wanna go swimming?” he asks, his expression innocent while his eyes sparkle with mischief. She laughs, nodding.

“I’m sure the water feels great.”

<><><><><><><><><><> 

They don’t wait until the next night. As she kisses him on the sand, under the water, as waves crash over their heads and their intertwined hands keep them from being torn apart, she thinks that even with everything that’s changed, maybe they haven’t.

She kisses him, and he kisses back. She tugs on his earring and he bites her jaw. She kisses him desperately, not saying goodbye this time, but welcoming him home just as much as he welcomes her. His hands are soft and strong on her body, and her hands are sure and firm on his. She smells like flowers and the ocean.

He still tastes like coffee and salty sea water. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I will literally send a gift to the first person who tells me what the title is a reference to.


End file.
